


A Last Hope: Breathe Free

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Balance [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU of an AU of an AU, Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, F/M, GFY, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some years ago, Siri Tachi was sent undercover to break a slaver ring. Mission almost complete and months overdue for extraction, she's hitting her breaking point. To top it off, the slave crew has made a stop on a Hutt-controlled backwater called Tatooine. Nothing good comes from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Last Hope: Breathe Free

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Flamethrower, Alyyks, and MoreCivilizedAge for betaing!
> 
> Also many more thanks to Flamethrower, for letting us borrow Rillian and her version of Siri!

Her drink was a toxic green thing that tasted bitter and sour. In a small, inner pocket of her shirt rested a simple data chip containing a holo message. It felt like it weighed several kilos. It felt like defeat.

She’d been carrying it for a week now.

Siri Tachi moodily swirled the contents of her cup, wondering yet again what the hell she was going to do. Tatooine wasn’t the best planet to abandon a crew of slavers, but it _was_ one of the best places in the universe to disappear.

Still. It was _Tatooine_.

It was automatic by now to look up when the pitch of noise changed. Had to be another of the locals coming in. She expected more moisture farmers, men and women beaten down by relentless suns and endless sand, but when she saw the two new faces she went very, very still.

The taller one was human, middle age plus, longish gray hair and dark blue eyes on a face worn enough to fit in with the locals. The shorter one rode on his shoulder like some smarmy little Kowakian monkey-lizard, but better dressed. That one was green, with wide ears, brown eyes, and a surprised little grin as he looked. Right. At. Her.

 _Fuck_. She’d been seen. _Master Yoda_ had seen her, and it looked like he was still hanging around Qui-Gon Jinn, and they’d fucking gone _Dark_ and killed the thrice-damned _Supreme Chancellor._ Of _all_ the fucking places, they were on _Tatooine_.

 _Oh, this day just gets better and better_. She groaned as Yoda leaned down to whisper something to Jinn. The human gave him a skeptical look, but stopped long enough to let the old Master lope down his arm and saunter over in Siri’s direction, making it look casual and natural. He paused and greeted several of the locals on the way; someone even bought him a drink. Yoda stopped at her table and looked up at her, ears twitching as if he were trying to figure out a strange puzzle.

“My table, you have claimed,” he declared with a grand gesture of his cup. “Join you, may I?”

“Sure,” she half-laughed, because fuck, this just took the whole damn cake. It _was_ a little amusing, in a surreal way, to watch Master Yoda place the cup on the table above his head, then abandon his dignity to clamber up onto the bench seat across from her. However, once he was settled, he just _looked_ at her, and there was nothing to laugh about in his expression.

“I don’t have any friends in the area, but I also have no idea how the locals are gonna feel about us having a conversation.” She kept her voice quiet and glanced around discreetly, unsurprised at the hostile looks being thrown her way. “It looks like _you_ have friends,” she couldn’t resist adding, dry as the whole damned planet.

His laugh seemed to calm a lot of those people down, and the grin he gave her was familiar. Safe.

It hurt so damn much.

“Freely we can talk, if quiet we are,” Yoda declared, sobering quick enough that he had to be sensing her emotions.

She nodded and chugged some of her drink. “So, this is where you ran off to.” She shook her head. “Anchorhead, Tatooine. Gotta say, I’m impressed. It doesn’t get much more remote than this.”

He hesitated before nodding. “Put it that way, you might. Reasons, we have.”

Siri waved it off, not caring because it was even less her business than it used to be. “Hell, I don’t blame you for running, or running this far.” The words caught in her throat for a moment, but she forced them out. This _was_ one of the reasons she’d left the rest of the crew back at Mos Eisley, so why not go for broke?

Dark or not, Fallen or not, this was still _Yoda_.

Not to mention she had no grounds to point _any_ fingers. "I’m thinking of doing the same thing."

“Successful, your mission was not?” The former Head of the Council kept his voice gentle, curious but not judging. It was almost the same tone he’d had when the Council had briefed her on the damn mission, to be a Jedi posing as a slaver.

To be the Jedi Padawan, undergoing her Trials to be a Knight.

“Nooo, that’s not the problem.” Her mouth twisted up into a bitter, angry smile. “It was done. I had all the pieces lined up, and I sent a request for backup. Right before you and your friends pulled that frelling incident with Palpatine.”

Yoda’s ears lowered. “Ah. Bad timing.”

She snorted and leaned back, stretching out her legs. “You’re telling me. No backup. Zilch, zero, fucking _nothing_.” Siri ground her teeth for a moment, and then huffed out a sigh. “It’s...only been a few months. I’ve been at it for two years already, so you’d think a few months more wouldn’t matter, right?” She let out a brittle, derisive bark of laughter. “Except it does matter. Every horrible thing I do now, I know I don’t _have_ to be doing.” She took a drink rather than break down crying the way she sometimes wanted to.

The silence sat between her and Yoda, heavy as the datachip in her pocket. She sighed again, shaking her head and speaking in a hushed growl. “But I still do it. _Why_?” Her breath caught, almost building into tears. When Siri had control of herself, she glared at Yoda. “I can’t do it anymore. Everything...everything before was so that I could make sure that that fucking dicksuck slaver gets _convicted_ , but now...what if backup never comes? I’ve tried contacting the Council _five times_ , I’ve almost gotten caught at it three more, and the most I ever got was being told to ‘Hang in there.’ I don’t know– I don’t know if I can go back...”

Yoda’s ears were flat, his presence in the Force distressed and concerned. “Accept you back, the Jedi will. One of them, you are.”

“No!” She glared around, but no one seemed too curious about their conversation. “No, you don’t– this last shipment– kriffing _fucking_ hells.” Her hand shook as she dragged it over her face. “Master Yoda, they’re _kids_. And _I helped catch them_.” Siri forced her hand down onto the table, willing it to stillness. Yoda reached over, putting his small hand atop hers.

It was a gentle touch, a reminder that she wasn’t alone. In the Force, it was a quiet gift. It was the Light, warm and enveloping. It gave her hope, the sensation of care and the softer reassurances she hadn’t had in so long it felt like forever.

Yet behind that comfort was something else, something…angry. Dark, but not cruel. Fierce, but not hateful. It was protective, curling around the Light that held her safe. This Darkness did not shy away from the battered coils of Darkness that had built within Siri. It helped, to have that acceptance of the brutality and harshness that she’d had to cultivate to survive the last few years, and the increasingly difficult months.

It _accepted_ her – all of her. Siri puzzled over this duality, this sensation of care that was foreign in every possible way. Even as it lifted her spirits, she looked over at Yoda – and froze. His eyes had gone from their usual pale brown to a glowing orange-yellow.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” she breathed, “you really did Fall.”

Yoda’s eyes remained the glowing citrine, but underneath that was a gentle, almost serene smile. “A matter of definition, that is.”

Siri was at a loss for what to do. Part of her wanted to break down bawling, which was illogical and not helpful, but this was the first time in who knew how long she hadn’t felt like she was moments away from shattering. It felt like someone has just given her a breath of fresh air.

“Some help you would like?” Yoda asked, calm and gentle as he looked at her. Looking, but not judging, with those _Sith_ eyes.

Siri shifted, uncomfortable and not sure what to do. _Aren’t Sith eyes supposed to be creepy? Off putting and evil?_

“I– _fuck_. I–” She checked the bar again, but there were just a few cautious looks, and they were all watching her, not Yoda. She ducked her head and closed her eyes, letting the Force hold her as she hadn’t felt worthy of in months, maybe a year.

The data chip still weighed heavy in her pocket. The message on it was to the Council, telling them to go fuck themselves, she quit, here was the intel she had gathered; good luck and good bye.

With her eyes closed, she could see the younglings shoved into the holding bay. They were scraped, bruised, bloodied, and scared.

She was so sick of being haunted by those she’d damned. The fact that this time it was little ones made it so much worse.

Between the imagined weight of the chip and the painful weight of those memories, she was surprised how easy it was to meet Yoda’s eyes. “I’m not– I’m not running away.” She was stunned to find she meant that. It had nothing to do with the Council or the Jedi. It was about Siri and her conscience.

She’d had enough of being Zora the slaver. “I’m going to need some friends who don’t mind getting their hands dirty. Got any recommendations?”

Yoda gave this _cackle_ , one she’d never heard from him. The sound was wild, delighted, and more than a little creepy, with a hint of that Dark beast prowling around behind it. Fuck, he’d Fallen, and she was asking him for help. She had to have lost it.

Yoda smiled at her, showing pointed, triangular teeth even as he patted her hand again. If it hadn’t been for that warmth and Light, she might have bolted. “Some shady characters I know. Come come, work we have!”

He hopped off the seat and sauntered towards the door, not once looking back at her. She took her time following, not quite as confident in what she was doing.

Thank the Force, no one made some stupid ass comment about Yoda taking the redhead stranger for a walk. Hells, the locals were still giving her looks as if they wondered about her intentions, but seemed to believe that Yoda could handle himself.

Siri gave the old Master a look. “You’ve been making friends.”

Yoda’s smiled dimmed a little, but was impish enough. “A reputation, one gets, from killing a Chancellor. Friends one makes by buying drinks.” When they got outside, Yoda hustled over to a battered, family-sized speeder. He settled himself in the passenger’s seat, serene with hands folded atop his gimer stick.

Siri had never imagined Yoda as a field Jedi. Pondering it now gave her a headache, but at least it was something to consider instead of what she was about to do.

It took Jinn a few minutes to wander out of the cantina, and he gave her a long look before stepping into the driver’s seat. He waited until the battered vehicle had cleared city limits before shooting her a questioning glance. “Knight Tachi. To what do we owe this honor?”

She winced and looked away, crossing her arms. “Still Padawan, Qui-Gon.” She couldn’t stop a bitter smile, and she wasn’t sure if it was for her old friend Obi-Wan’s Fallen teacher, or at her fucked-up circumstances. “I’m currently in the process of failing my Trials.”

That got a startled look from him. “That’s quite unlike you.” Still dry as ever. “What’s your mission, and what do we have to do with it?”

“Undercover work, with slavers.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes hardened, and his knuckles tightened just a little on the steering wheel. Strange; he didn’t used to have _any_ tells. “And our role?”

“You’re going to help me kill them.”

* * *

“Good,” the teenaged boy declared, voice flat, arms crossed, and expression tight. He’d had that pose from the moment Yoda had introduced them. He felt conflicted in the Force, a fierce approval of her mixed with screaming horror peppered with fear. She didn’t need to ask. She’d run into plenty of ex-slaves before.

Rillian, the Wookiee, felt much calmer, more deliberate as she frowned down at the kitchen’s table top. [The five of us, or are the others going to join in, too?]

Qui-Gon was already shaking his head. “We five should be plenty.”

“Are these two good enough?” Siri had to ask, much as she hated to. Krayn’s slavers were no pushovers, and she hated bringing two teens – one an ex-slave – up against them. Qui-Gon might have taught his padawans how to be damned scary, proficient duelists, but Siri had plenty of evidence that that was just not enough.

Obi-Wan was more than example enough of that.

“Fuck yes,” Anakin snarled, and when he met her eyes she had to gulp back instinctive fear. His eyes blazed amber. “I’m the best pilot you’re going to find in this quadrant, I know how to fight, and they’re _slavers_ who caught _kids_. You’re not going without me.”

[I’m not too shabby myself,] Rillian chuffed, though at least her eyes remained a normal steel gray.

“As they said, yes.” Qui-Gon’s look was as hard as Anakin’s, but she didn’t get the feeling it was directed at her. “Have you a plan?”

“ _Go in and leave all the bad guys dead” isn’t going to sound too impressive._ “Three teams. You guys go in pairs – one master, one padawan – and make an entrance. There’s a side hatch you can use. That and the loading bay ramp should be good places to start. I’ll go in first and get the party started. I should be able to make a stand beginning at the bridge.” _And ending there, but there’re worse fates._

“Hm.” Qui-Gon gave her another look. “What weapons do you have?”

She laughed. “Master Jinn, have you stockpiled an armory that would impress some pirates? I wouldn’t be too surprised, but–”

“Do you have a lightsaber?”

“What kind of undercover operation do you think this is?” The sneer was too easy, too quick, and inside she winced. That was sure to make friends and win allies.

To Siri’s surprise, Jinn didn’t bat an eye. “So you’re going in with blasters and vibroblades.”

[Risky,] the Wookiee rumbled.

“You have a better idea? I should ask the Force to provide, and some miracle will clear a path for me?”

Qui-Gon leaned forward. “If you had all the parts, how long would it take you to put together a functional lightsaber?”

“As compared to an optimal one? Ten minutes.” She steeled herself. “Don’t tell me you have all the parts. A spare crystal is...” _Worth at least half the kids in the hold?_ Fuck, she hated the way it was now automatic to measure costs in units of bodies.

“Available,” Jinn interjected. “Moreover, I think that gives you a much better weapon for close combat. Are you interested?”

Staring up at him, Siri wondered if this was what it was like to be seduced to the Dark side.

What the hell. She was more than halfway there already, right?

* * *

Skywalker had the antsy pacing habit of a pilot denied the chance to be in control of the craft. After a few dozen passes in front of her, Siri rolled her eyes. “Betcha you could go up front and get Jinn to let you fly.”

He shot her a look part rueful, part disgusted. “Not allowed to.” She blinked. Jinn seemed to like the kid well enough, and if Skywalker lived up to his boast, then there wasn’t any reason he wouldn’t be in the cockpit. He caught her expression and rolled his eyes. “I...might have gotten into a disagreement with an idiot last month.”

“An idiot.”

He shuffled from foot to foot, glancing at the cockpit. “Um. Someone...might’ve thought Qui-Gon had a bounty on him. So they took some potshots, he blocked ’em, and the idiot ran.”

It shouldn’t have made her grin. “Lemme guess. Nearest speeder and lots of broken – wait, does Tatooine even have traffic laws?”

“Weirdly enough? Yeah. At least in some places. So. Um. I’m not allowed to–”

She started laughing, and she had no idea why it was so hilarious.

* * *

“Zora!” Krayn snarled, spinning around to glare at her. _Fuck_. He was on the other side of the room, away from the holo-projector he liked to loom over, and instead he was–

Siri bit back a snarl. He was looking at the security feeds. The only reason to do that was if something was going on with the slaves.

Torture. Maybe worse.

_Fuck. This. You better hurry, Jinn!_

“Where the hell have you been?” the T’surr snarled, taking a step closer to her. “Everyone’s been back for hours, you useless echuta, and you disappeared soon as you hit dirtside.”

After so long undercover, it was easy to give him a lazy, insouciant smirk. “Didn’t know we had a curfew. Bill me for overtime.” She strolled across the room, keeping to the side and struggling not to glare at those around her.

Four red eyes narrowed, and Krayn bared his teeth at her. “Planning something, Zora? Take my cargo and sell them to Jabba, maybe?”

“Nope. Had to see a man about a lightsaber.” She bit back a surge of something exultant, a wild laugh because it was true, and not in a way any of them could imagine.

It was also hilarious how most of the crew recoiled a little. Zora had a reputation, and she suspected they thought any lover she took would end up a lot less of a man.

“What kind of a joke is this?”

Her smirk widened, leaving her baring her teeth right back at her ostensible boss. “No joke.” She pulled the lightsaber from a rear belt pouch and ignited it. It was crude, but functional, and she liked the feel of the unrefined, unpolished design. She might keep it, in the unlikely event of her survival.

The blue lightsaber held everyone’s eyes for a long moment, one broken by the blare of an alarm. Krayn spun, cursing as he and several others started bringing security measures online.

Fuck. Someone must have tripped something. One of the Weequay near Krayn hissed an expletive. “Bodies in the loading bay, and unknown shuttle–”

Siri’s blaster shot took him in the back of the neck. Not giving anyone time to react, she charged at Krayn, open to the Force as she hadn’t been for ages, and it sang though her with a fierce, wild joy.

* * *

Anakin snarled as another slaver lunged for him, vibroblade slicing past his face and just missing his nose.

Anakin didn’t miss. He whirled past the bisected bastard, the Force and the Dark side thrumming power and speed through him. There was someone hurtling down towards the hallway junction towards him, and he raced forward, lightsaber raised and ready.

The other person took the corner, and he slashed down, only to recoil as his lightsaber rebounded with a hissing crackle. Siri lifted her weapon. “A T’surr come this way?” she snapped.

“Nope!” He let the Force guide his steps, pulling him down the hallway to the right. “This way!”

Siri made some sort of agreeing noise, pelting along with him. She shot him a glance, and then nodded towards his face. “Was always told the Dark was especially dangerous in combat.”

He smirked, the cold fury that the Dark liked tangled up with his amusement. _Jedi. Feh_. “Fighting against it, right?”

She grunted agreement as several slavers down the hall opened fire from the cover of some crates. “Too easy to Fall.” She was better – a _lot_ better – at blocking and redirecting the shots coming at them. Anakin managed to intercept the ones coming his way, but managing the rebound angle was a crapshoot at best. Siri didn’t even look like she noticed the few that Anakin ended up bouncing her way, though she blocked those too. “Go!” She pulled her own blaster and started firing as fast as she could. The slavers ducked, and Ani charged. A few of her blaster shots skimmed close to him. He couldn’t tell if it was a message that she _had_ in fact noticed the earlier rebounds in her direction, or if she just liked cutting it close.

“Any idea how many more?”

“Lots!” Then Siri’s head came up and she glared off to the left. “ _There_ you are.” She took off, Force-running at speeds he tried to match. “So! Dark?”

“S’not too easy. You need to make sure there’s a target.” He could see her give him a look, but he ignored it, ducking into a roll to avoid getting clotheslined by a Rodian lurking in a side corridor. He was back on his feet, snarling as the bastard’s head left his body. _Not hate_ , he reminded himself. _Hate’s bad. Angry. Kids. Slaves._ “Look, you don’t fight the Dark. Overpowered shuttle. Can’t control it. You try, you go right into the nearest canyon wall.” He wasn’t talking _to_ Siri so much as _at_ her as they continued fighting their way through the ship. He needed the reminder, he needed to hold on to what they’d learned; this was _nothing_ like sparring with Yoda, Qui, or Rillian.

They didn’t make him this fucking _angry_. “Every idiot over-controls, steers off course. You ride it instead, you nudge it. I want to be over _there_ , so I nudge like _this_ , and keep an eye out for sudden obstacles.” An obstacle – a slaver, in this case – firing blind from behind a wall stopped as Anakin’s lightsaber went right through the metal and the slaver both.

Siri danced past him, redirecting several blaster shots back at some ambitious humans at the end of the corridor. Awesome; they pretty much shot themselves. “Hah! So it’s the sudden bumps you have to look out for?”

“Yup!” Things seemed to have cleared out pretty quick, leaving them to hustle down dark corridors. “There’s a target, let it power you there. Let it work with you. Know it’s gonna buck sometimes, and be ready. I want these bastards _dead–_ ” Huh. Nothing behind the door. The Force had him spinning, dodging another vibroblade. “–And it’s ok to be angry, and even a little _hate–_ ” He clubbed the Weequay with the hilt of his lightsaber, batting the woman back. “–‘Cause these _fuckers_ are _shit_.” He rolled back to his feet, giving a feral grin at the body Siri had left on the floor. “Everyone down is for someone they made a _slave_.” Siri made some sort of noise, blade ready and on guard. He followed her further into the storage bay, past pallets of storage boxes. “They don’t get to keep doing th– AH!”

The huge blue humanoid landed hard next to him, one of the larger top set of arms slamming down onto his shoulder. The smaller one shoved him aside. Anakin faceplanted hard, snarling as something that might have been his nose crunched. There was a shout from Siri, the hum of a lightsaber sweeping over him, and by the time he rolled to the side and scrambled to his feet, they were on the other side of the room.

* * *

Fucking Krayn had moved fast enough that Siri hadn’t spotted him. He’d been smart enough to take out Skywalker. At least the kid didn’t seem dead.

The T’surr snarled at her, beyond words, beyond anything but fury and a pounding need for revenge that rang through the Force. She shoved that off, focused on making sure it was the slaver who ended up dead instead of her. It had been a long, running fight, even with Skywalker’s rambles to keep them moving, and Siri’s whole body burned with effort.

Krayn was fast, and just one hit from him would be enough to take Siri down.

It felt good, freeing, to _fight_ him at last. She’d spent years working for him, taking sentients from markets or from their lives and selling them. She’d spent years destroying lives on his commands.

Siri knew she shouldn’t enjoy it, shouldn’t savor getting revenge for the lives she’d ruined. A Jedi would dress it up, call it ‘penance’ instead, but that would be a lie. Siri was through with lies.

Kryan misjudged first, and dodged right when he should have gone left. He roared rage and pain, with a lovely touch of fear, as her blade sizzled through his arm. A neat little loop, and the sword’s tip went through most of his neck.

Siri could swear all four of his red eyes were still glaring hate at her as the T’surr crumpled. She could feel the life flow out of him, rejoining the Force, and it was _good_ , it was _justice_ , and there was a dark joy in the fact that at last she’d started to make up for years of horror.

Footsteps from the main entrance had her whirling around, lightsaber up and ready. Skywalker was hauling himself upright, grimacing and smearing a hell of a nosebleed across his cheek. It might not have been broken, but he did not look to be having a good time.

He also didn’t look concerned about the approaching footsteps in the least.

Jinn rounded the corner, taking in the dead slaver with a nod of fierce approval, Skywalker with slight concern, and Siri–

He stopped cold, yellow eyes wide. She lowered her blade, nonplussed by his stunned expression. Oh well, deal with whatever it was later. “Got the head asshole. How’s mop-up going?”

Jinn thumbed off his lightsaber, attaching it at his belt before taking two long strides over to her and putting one large hand on her shoulder.

“The fuck, Jinn–”

“Your eyes,” he said, to her utter bewilderment. Behind him, she could see Skywalker jerk upright, and a similar stunned look flashed across his face, along with far too much guilt. “Take a moment, feel the Force. We’re here. You’re safe. Whatever happens, wherever you go, we will help you.”

“Fine, great.” She disengaged her blade and shrugged her shoulder to dislodge Jinn’s hand, trying to figure out what sort of bad spice the man had ingested. “Now get the...fuck...off...”

Oh. Her eyes.

Her eyes _burned_. Skywalker came over, though neither he nor Jinn crowded her. Siri could feel tears slipping free from her Force-bright eyes, a gentle purging, feeling like the Light side, even as the Dark prowled within, radiating a brutal, triumphant glee. Through the Force, she could feel joy from the hold – and wasn’t _that_ a strange sensation – as the younglings realized that they were free, the slavers were dead.

The Jedi would preach for a grim satisfaction at most, but Siri was fiercely _glad_ that she had helped slaughter the bastards. She could find no trace of the slavers in the Force. It was just the kids, and the four Fallen Jedi, and those four felt the same way she did.

 _Well. Fuck. Guess that’s one way to quit the Order_. “Fuck, Jinn.” She sniffled. “You got room for one more?”

“Always.”

* * *

Qui-Gon stood with Yoda outside the Lars farm’s entry dome, arms crossed and staring at the rough little tents and protective structures cobbled together in the main courtyard. Traumatized younglings huddled in the shelters, radiating a confused mix of fear, relief, joy, and terror in the Force. They were crowded in almost cheek to jowl, which was still a damn sight better conditions than they’d had in the slaver’s ship. Between Shmi’s determined motivation and Cliegg’s quiet organizational skills, they had most of the younglings squared away for the night – which meant Qui-Gon and Yoda now had a stickier problem to deal with.

Qui-Gon sighed. “Well. We’re quite the pair of old fools, aren’t we.”

“Mm.” Yoda smiled a little, tapping his cane on the hard-packed earth. “Understand the shape of things, we did not.”

“Hah. No, not in the least.” They shared a companionable silence. “Do you regret this?”

“No. Sufficient, the Order is not. Benign, the Sith are not. Necessary, we have become. And in good company we are.”

Qui-Gon managed a wry smile, shuffling a little. “Yes, I suppose we are.” He studied their foundlings a moment more, and then took a deep breath. “We’d best speak with the others.”

With the living quarters having been turned into an impromptu infirmary, the Lars family and their ex-Jedi guests crowded into the kitchen. Qui-Gon took the chair Ani shoved away from the table and folded himself down, leaving a little bit of breathing room. As Yoda perched himself on the table, Qui-Gon took stock.

Anakin looked exhausted, both eyes black from the broken nose – Force healed now, but he’d insisted the younglings be seen to first. Shmi, Cliegg, and Owen had the stunned looks of the overwhelmed, but the way they sat together, close and supportive, was heartening. Siri and Rillian shared the small bench on the other side of the table, the Wookiee snuggled close and Siri looking rather confused, but appreciative.

Qui-Gon swiped a hand over his face, trying to scrub his own exhaustion away. “Thank you all. I hope this won’t take long. Shmi, how are the younglings?”

The woman sat a little straighter. “Forty-one, all malnourished, ages three to fifteen. We didn’t lose any, though there were a few that were a bit touch and go until Yoda got involved with the healing. We’ve food enough today and tomorrow, but...” She shook her head. “I’ve no idea how to feed this many mouths.”

He nodded and scribbled some information down on a piece of ’plast, passing it over. “That’s an account of Dooku’s. Blood money. This is one of the best causes it could go to. It should feed everyone while we get things settled. Any idea how many wish to return home?”

“About twenty. Owen started talking to a few of the older ones, who...” She sighed and glanced away for a moment, the hand clasping Cliegg’s tightening, as did the other on Anakin’s shoulder. “They’ve no place else to go. There’s three who would be interested in working for us, which means we could expand the way Cliegg’s wanted to for a while now.”

Lars leaned forward and cleared his throat. “What are _your_ plans, Jinn?”

Qui-Gon couldn’t stop a flicker of a smile. “Rather more complicated than I’d like. Does one need to buy property around here, or just be able to defend a claim from the Tuskens and the Hutts?”

The farmer was giving him a rather suspicious look. “Tuskens, Hutts, and everything else.”

He nodded. “Then how do you feel about getting a large group of neighbors?”

“Well, so long as they’re family...” Cliegg shrugged and grinned at him, even as Qui-Gon struggled a moment with being called, _considered,_ family.

“Growing, this family will be,” Yoda chimed in, tone wry and amused.

Qui-Gon nodded. “As fast as safely possible, too.”

Anakin shook his head. “Confused. What?”

 _Commit, man. The Force is with you, and has been for months now._ Listen _to it_. “We’re going to start a new Order.” He smirked at Ani’s shocked look. “You’re invited to join, of course.”

“Wait. Wait wait wait.” Siri was looking between him and Yoda. “I thought you said you _weren’t_ an organized group of gray Force-users.”

“Circumstances have changed.” Qui-Gon looked over at Rillian, who was watching with a delighted grin, and gave her a nod. “We have been sought out.” He glanced at Anakin, who had gone from stunned to interested, if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by. “We provide an alternative to those who are too old, or unwilling to follow the Jedi strictures when they are too limited.” Yoda returned his smile, and Qui-Gon looked back to Siri. “We need to admit that while those here were the first, there will be more. We are Dark, and Light, and we should neither be ashamed of that, nor hiding it. We’ll stay here, on the Outer Rim, where the Jedi don’t often go. We’ll have to settle with the Hutts someday, but I hope by then we’ll have established ourselves well enough that they will fear us, not the other way ’round. We won’t interfere with Jedi business, and if we find any Force-sensitive younglings that would fit the Jedi Order, we will try to be discreet and toss them Coruscant’s way. Don’t make too much noise, and just live our lives.”

“You mean it. You’re going to start a Gray Jedi Order.” Siri sounded dazed, stunned at the boldness.

Qui-Gon waggled a hand back and forth. “I’d prefer a name that is less evocative of the Jedi, and less liable to get Mace screaming down on our heads.”

Ani blanched, even as Siri nodded an acknowledgement. “The name’s not the point. You’re serious about starting an order of Light _and_ Dark users.”

“I don’t get it, what’s the problem?” Ani grumped.

“Not a problem, I’m just late to this game, kid.”

“And while we’re all very happy for you, what does that have to do with us?” Owen asked. “We’re not Force users.”

“So therefore you should be excluded from what we’re doing? After giving us shelter, family, support?” Qui-Gon shook his head. “If Attachment and love balance out the Dark side, then what the hell are we doing, excluding those people from our group because they can’t lift rocks with their minds?”

Cliegg snickered and cleared his throat to cover it. “What if we don’t want to join?”

“Then friend and family you still will be,” Yoda declared with a serene air. “Careful, we should be, given how dangerous this endeavor is. Dangerous, the Dark side still is, and dangerous it always will be.”

[That makes me feel so much better about making an Order around it.] Rillian shook her head. [We’re the first members of this? That’s...that’s weird.]

“No kidding.” Anakin was studying the table, chewing his lip for a moment. “So what are we, then? The Gray Force Users?”

Rillian snorted. [The New Order?]

They batted ideas back and forth, from the ridiculous to the ostentatious. Owen looked a little surprised at himself when he tossed in a name, and breathed a sigh of relief when it got shot down.

“Shadows of the Sun,” Siri suggested at last, leaning back and spinning her almost empty mug of tea.

Anakin, punch-drunk with exhaustion, snickered. “Tatooine. We have _two_ suns, stoopa.”

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Fine, Shadows of the _Suns_ , happy now, Mister Pedantic?”

Qui-Gon ignored the tomfoolery, instead chewing on the potential. “Why that? It seems...arbitrary.”

Siri shrugged, relaxing against the table. “Well, it’s impossible, right? Suns don’t have shadows, they make them. And it’s dark _and_ light – shadows and suns. So it’s impossible, and Dark, and Light. All at once.”

[Huh.] Rillian was watching her with a touch of surprise. [That...makes sense.]

“Shades,” Yoda murmured, drawing all eyes. “Shades of the Suns. As Siri said, but provide shelter, and protection, the shade does.”

Qui-Gon turned the suggestion over in his head, biting back the impulse to ask if it also had something to do with myths of the dead, shades and wraiths. So help him, if it did, Qui-Gon would strangle the old troll himself.

Despite that, the name sat well with him, Siri’s logic was as solid as Yoda’s. Qui-Gon looked around, seeing slow nods and small grins. “Done, then. I don’t think we need a formal structure until there’s more of us, but in the meantime–”

“Nominate Qui-Gon for Shade head, I do,” Yoda chirped, cutting Qui-Gon off into a sputter of protest.

“Wha– _me_? Why me?”

Yoda had a smile both innocent and terrifying. “Think to nominate me, do you?”

“Well...yes. You’ve had years of experience at this. It makes sense.” He wanted to just shake his head and refuse, but there was a morbid fascination to discover the illogic involved.

Yoda nodded to him. “Led the Jedi Council, I have. Yet Jedi, we are not. Follow that _tradition_ , we should not. Recreating the Jedi with Darkness, we are not. New ideas, and open minds, we need.” His smile turned a little wry, and he looked down at his cane. “Also, admit to some selfishness, I do. Time to explore the Dark side, and this new balance, I wish, and to travel, as I have not in so long.”

The awkward silence was broken by Siri. “You want to go on _active duty_? I mean...not that we _have_ active duty...do we?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I think that is a question that can wait until we’ve all had a solid night’s sleep.”

“Important stuff now,” Anakin nodded. “I second Qui-Gon as head honcho.”

“Anakin.” Qui-Gon frowned at the boy, who smirked back at him. This was not helping the matter.

[I third it!]

Qui-Gon’s head whipped around, and he glared at the grinning Wookiee. “But –”

“I’m the new person, but I don’t see a problem with it.” Siri’s grin had a little too much tooth for the innocent look she was trying to project.

“Hm.” Shmi was looking at Qui-Gon, her expression speculative and far too calculating. “Easier to ask if anyone _opposes_ it.”

Qui-Gon fought the urge the glare as Cliegg and Owen just grinned at him. Outnumbered, and outmaneuvered as deftly as if they’d _practiced_ it. “You all realize I was an _actual_ Sith Apprentice?”

Anakin scowled at him. “Yeah, but you’re _not_ anymore. So knock that shit off.”

Qui-Gon looked around at the mad beings who had somehow become a family, _his_ family, and shook his head, grinning in spite of himself. He tried to ignore the swell of warmth and…and love, in his chest. “All right. It seems I am outvoted. You’re all mad.” He was not surprised at the smiles he got at that. He straightened, rapping the table once. “We should sleep on this. Lunch tomorrow, after we’ve talked to the rest of the younglings. We tackle any other questions and organizational issues then. Go to bed, everyone.”

It was strange, to have them clear the room with laughter and friendly jostling, leaving a comfortable silence for Qui-Gon and Yoda. They sat there a long moment, companionable and, in Qui-Gon’s case, too tired to move yet.

At last, he looked over at the old Master, who was smirking at him. “I would feel much more confident if you were running things.”

“Head of the Jedi Council, and Head of the Jedi Order, I was. Head of this, I should not be.” Yoda’s grin melted into a glare, and his gimer stick thunked against Qui-Gon’s head. “And running from more responsibilities, you should not be.”

Qui-Gon bit back an automatic protest, rubbing at the knot on his skull. “That’s– I think that’s not what it’s about. You have trouble reaching the Dark. I have trouble with the Light. Hells, I can barely meditate.”

“Hmph. Fallen Jedi, or Fallen Sith. A good reputation, we will never have. Ignore the implications, we should.”

“Hm.” Qui-Gon stared at the far wall, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’d like to acknowledge Venge – his lessons are a part of our foundations.”

That got a soft laugh. “Two Fallen Sith and –”

“No. A Fallen Sith, a Fallen Jedi, and someone who’s neither. Whatever else, we should emphasize balance. Dark, Light, and the places in between.”

Yoda hummed and placed a gentle hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, the Force sharing support and reassurance between them.

* * *

The lunch meeting was more logistics than Siri liked to deal with. She sat, quiet save for a handful of occasions when she chimed in. She tried to sit on the awkward joy that her contributions were welcome, to the point where on at least one occasion Skywalker gave her puppy dog eyes of thanks for support. The kid was a brat, but he had his moments.

Yoda surprised them all with the announcement that one of the younglings was Force-sensitive, and too old for the Jedi to accept. Qui-Gon had seemed pained, and declared in a quiet voice that he would look into it.

By the time food had been eaten and cleared away, Siri was itching to get out, to do...something, _anything_ , that didn’t require her to be stuck in what felt like a very small room. She shoved her chair back as Qui-Gon straightened, putting on his solemn business face. A few polite words, and then she could see what there was to do on a moisture farm.

“One last thing.”

 _Dammit_. Whatever it was, it was a surprise to everyone but Qui-Gon.

Who was looking at _her_. “What?”

His gentle smile surprised her. “There’s no grand ceremony, and we all have a _lot_ to learn, but if anyone dares tell me that what you have done for the younglings outside was not a Trial, nor one you passed with flying colors, I’ll laugh in their face and then be rather cross. _Knight_ Siri Tachi, well done.”

Siri just sat and blinked, stunned confusion mixing with a dawning happiness. Next to her, Rillian whooped and pulled her into a hug, and then there were a round of cheerful congratulations, shoulder pats, and enthusiastic comments. Skywalker even gave her a hug, whispering congratulations to her on being their first Knight.

It blew her mind a little. She was grateful that Qui-Gon shooed everyone else out, assigning tasks if anyone needed motivation. Without anyone but the two of them, the room seemed to be a decent size again. She stared at him. “That’s– I– are you sure? All I know about the Dark side is what happened on the ship.”

He had the gentle smile again as he settled a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t about mastery, Siri. You were set a task, which became near impossible, and you survived. You’re stronger for the experience, as horrific as it was. Were matters different, you’d have been back with the Jedi and knighted months ago.”

“Most people would say that means I failed,” she pointed out wryly.

Qui-Gon got steel in his look, for all that there was no yellow in evidence. “They’d be wrong. Believe me, sometimes surviving is the most difficult task of all. You did well, and you deserve this.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Both his smile and his presence in the Force were solid, reassuring and certain. He gave her shoulder another pat before he slipped out, giving her the space she needed.

Siri sat in the cool, dark cooking area, trying to center herself. This was not how she had thought her day would go.

After a few minutes of sitting, quiet and almost meditating, she started to smile.

She’d...done it.

Never mind the Trial, she’d done, if not the right thing – the _Jedi_ thing – then at least something she could live with. Siri could feel the emotions from the younglings – still stunned, still traumatized, but _healing_.

 _Shades, huh?_ There was a pang of loss, grief, at leaving the Jedi. It helped that she’d already been one small step from doing that, but running away in disgrace was very different from stepping open-eyed into something so new it squeaked.

Siri reached into her pocket, pulling out the data chip. The recording of her blowing off the Jedi didn’t feel heavy anymore – it was just a holo.

Siri stood up, pocketing the chip and walking towards the door. She ought to record something new, a different message. Still angry, maybe, but not...bitter.

Balanced.

She grinned, stopping before the door to take several centering breaths. The weight of two years of Darkness finally rolled off her shoulders. She palmed the door open and stepped out into Tatooine’s merciless suns, a little surprised at how eager she was to get started.

**Author's Note:**

> Musical inspiration was [Battle Scars by Paradise Fears](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFaBmcCz_HU).


End file.
